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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398930">Sunlight and Storms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwantedtodance/pseuds/justwantedtodance'>justwantedtodance</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Birthday, Birthday Fluff, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Half-Infected Paul, I take no criticism, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Apotheosis (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals), Softness, they moved to Colorado and were happy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:43:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwantedtodance/pseuds/justwantedtodance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Emma's birthday, and she should have expected something to go wrong. Thankfully, Paul knows how to make the best of a bad day. Title taken from the song of the same name from "Starry."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sunlight and Storms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottage_whore_xX/gifts">Cottage_whore_xX</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A birthday gift for a newfound friend. I hope this brightens your birthday like you brighten my day. Happy birthday! 🥳🎁</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Before the rain even starts, she can feel it in her bones. It makes her joints ache with each step she takes, each rise on her toes to reach the top shelf that’s just two inches too tall for comfort. Since the apotheosis, the rain aggravates her leg even worse than before. The move to Colorado has Emma— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kelly </span>
  </em>
  <span>(it’s been six months, and she still hates it every damn day) changing jobs, but she’s still on her feet just as much as before, trading out coffee beans for stems and leaves in the local florist’s shop. The rain keeps her indoors instead of out with the plants where she can be in peace and quiet, so suffice to say, rainy days suck. And it’s raining on her birthday. Cherry on top of an already perfect day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben </span>
  </em>
  <span>(it doesn’t suit him at all) finds another desk job working insurance instead of tech but is afforded the luxury of keeping to himself and working alone. Unlike Emma, he loves the rain. Music makes him more anxious than relaxed, but the ambient sound of the rain pattering against the office windows washes over him in calm, lapping waves. Normally, the natives mourn the rainy days in Evergreen, but Paul rejoices in them and knows that the sun will come back out again tomorrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shop’s bell rings, startling Emma out of her concentration on an arrangement. There’s a wedding this weekend, and the bride was very specific about the layout of her bridesmaids’ bouquets. Too specific. She’s looked so closely at it that she starts calling geraniums gardenias because she can’t keep her head on straight. In her haste to look up, she almost skids her thumb across a thorn but barely avoids it. Thank god; blood still messes with her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A man enters, someone she doesn’t know. Maybe someone Paul works with?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, are you Emma?” No one uses her given name except Paul. Who the fuck is this guy, and what does he want? Is he someone from PEIP? Or someone with more sinister intentions? Better to play it safe than sorry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but I know her. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man extends a sunflower with a note dangling from the stem and places it on the counter. “I was told to bring this to an Emma, so if you see her, could you give her this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll pass it along, thanks,” she reaches out to take it with a small smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have a good day,” the man says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She forgets how nice people are here. “You too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the man leaves is when Emma finally lets herself blush and smile giddily. Sure, she sees flowers every day, but sunflowers aren’t just any regular flower; they’re a love letter. A secret exchange between two young people hopelessly devoted to each other. Nothing quite like a plague to help you meet the love of your life, but she wouldn’t change being with him for the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reads the note: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My darling sunflower, I hope my note and present finds you well and dry despite the weather outside. I had to make some changes to our plans tonight, but I will do my best to make sure you still have a wonderful day. I’ll see you soon. Happy birthday, my love. Forever yours, PM.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s such a sap, but she wouldn’t have him any other way. Emma never liked celebrating her birthday to begin with, not that she had anyone to really celebrate with back in Hatchetfield, but Paul insisted that after everything that happened this year, they needed to celebrate properly. Of course, to appease him, Emma agreed, though she’d be just as content with pizza in bed as she would with a fancy dinner and night out. She’s curious now what her scheming boyfriend could possibly be thinking up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just after 5:00, she gets a call from the man in question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone was eager to leave work today,” she remarks with a teasing lilt in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, sweetheart. Did you get my present?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, though a heads-up would have been nice. Almost took a pair of scissors to that guy’s neck for using my real name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. But Stephen and I are both thankful you didn’t maim him.” Emma smiles and starts to close down the shop. “Hey, don’t come home yet. I still have a few things to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul, you know I’m not expecting anything big—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not big, I promise,” he interjects. “Trust me, it’s simple, very casual, but I just have to do a few last-minute things. Could you pick us up some wine while you’re out by the store?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, red or white?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your pick, babe. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> birthday, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma chuckles. “Right. See you in an hour?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds perfect. I love you, Emma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An hour and ten minutes later, Cabernet and a tub of chocolate caramel ice cream in tow, she enters her darkened house with a sigh, setting the items on the table in the foyer to shed her coat. Emma calls out for Paul, but he doesn’t answer. Technically, they live in two separate houses near each other, but Emma definitely got the more spacious of the two, thus Paul spends most of his time at her place and secretly had a key made as soon as they moved. The two houses were really just a formality; Colonel Schaffer knew that, but professionalism and all that bullshit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugs and moves the wine to the fridge and the ice cream to the freezer before making her way to the couch. She almost texts her boyfriend, but when she catches sight of a flame being lit on the screened-in porch, Emma’s head snaps up, and she moves to investigate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Son of a bitch. There’s Paul, sitting cross-legged on the deck with a shy smile that turns vibrant when he sees Emma’s shocked reaction to her momentarily remodeled porch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember how you said you always wanted to sleep under the stars? It’s not exact given the weather today, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul, this is…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy birthday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She has to look around once more to really take in what she’s seeing. Christmas lights line the entirety of the porch, in addition to the adhesive stars from her childhood bedroom that she took along with her tacked on the ceiling. The fire pit is roaring, and they have all the supplies they need for building s’mores next to it. The best part, though, has to be the elaborate tent fashioned out of sheets and blankets behind Paul, complete with sleeping bags underneath for the two of them and his laptop set up to watch any movie she wants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma takes a breath and leaps into his lap, winding her arms around his neck as she pulls him in for an eager kiss. Paul laughs and kisses her back with his hand in her hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m assuming you like it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know whether to jump around and scream or fuck your brains out right now. Either way, you are, without a doubt, the best boyfriend ever, and I love you so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul smiles at her and plants a line of kisses from her temple to the curve of her jaw. “I love you, Em. More than you know. Make yourself comfortable; pizza should be here soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, Paul knew. He always does, knows exactly what to do to make her happy. The sheer fact of him being there is enough to place a bright spot on her day, but he knows exactly how to make her feel special without going over the top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma smiles and crawls over to the sleeping bag she assumes is hers since one of her pillows is behind it. They cuddle close as they start </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sixteen Candles</span>
  </em>
  <span> while they wait on the food. 80s films always bring her a sense of nostalgia, and Paul loves a good romantic comedy. Later, while they munch on pizza and sip wine, Paul wraps his arms around her and pulls her between his legs, and she snuggles back into him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly choked up with emotion at the scene between Samantha and her father, Emma takes a breath. So much of this movie reminds her of her own life until it doesn’t. “Thanks for remembering,” she whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d never forget.” He kisses her head. “You are the most special person in my life, Em, and I’m honored that I get to spend today with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the movie begins to end, Paul excuses himself and races into the kitchen, only to come back with a small cake, all white icing except for the decorative sunflower on the left hand side. Candles lit in a circle across the top, Paul sets it down between them and sits with his legs crossed across from her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for saving me,” she says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for letting me,” he returns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for drinking all that shit coffee,” she teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, Emma. Make a wish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles up at him and reaches for his hand. “It already came true.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In an iconic rendition of the film, the two of them stretch across the cake to kiss. “And you say you’re not a romantic,” Paul says with a smirk just before their lips touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, but we haven’t even had dessert yet, babe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma gets up halfway to move to Paul’s side of the cake and straddle his lap. “You’re right, you haven’t.” He looks confused momentarily, but when she raises her eyebrows at him, a smirk spreading across her lips, he knows exactly what she’s asking for. “Aren’t you glad it’s my birthday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He carefully turns her over on her back and teasingly grinds into her as he presses her wrists into the ground. Emma giggles when he starts kissing down her body from her neck to her chest to her flat stomach. “We’ll come back to that cake later; I spent hours making that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, Betty Crocker, we will. Now, less talking and more…” Emma tosses her head back and moans when she feels Paul’s tongue press against her center. “That. More of that, please…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later, when they’ve ravaged the cake as a reward for some very athletic sex, Paul and Emma curl in their sleeping bags facing each other, kisses still flavored with frosting and drift off to sleep holding each other close as the rain lightly patters outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dawn breaks over the Colorado sky, peachy and serene. Paul stirs first at the sound of birds chirping melodically in the distance and stares down at Emma, whose face is the most visibly relaxed it’s been in the last six months. He falls in love with her all over again as the sun streams across her left cheekbone, giving her a radiant glow fit for a goddess. Smoothing some fallen hair from her face, the birds continue their sweet song urging Paul to join in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And god, he wants to. He’d love nothing more than to sing praises of Emma all day and night. His body begs him to, the few remaining spores still alive inside of him seducing him to obey his deepest impulses. But he can’t. He won’t. He—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul, it’s okay,” Emma mumbles into his chest. She meets his eyes, softly blinking the sleepiness from them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can feel you humming, babe. You can sing to me, it’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stammers, his heart stuttering in his chest. This must be a trick, or at the very least, a dream. “Emma, I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trust you.” She snuggles further into his chest, closing her eyes once more. Trusting that he won’t pass the infection to her by way of puking in her mouth should be bare minimum, but he knows Emma’s wariness to trust anyone who isn’t herself. Paul isn’t sure what to make of her willingness to let him sing, but he convinces himself it’s the early morning fog clouding her judgement. He kisses the top of her head, faintly apologizing to her, and softly begins to sing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Little darling, the smile’s returning to their faces. Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here… here comes the sun. Here comes the sun, and I say, it’s alright…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma smiles as sleep takes over her once more, her body still not quite ready to meet the day. Paul, however, can’t fall back asleep, too unnerved by what just transpired that he spends the next hour processing it and convincing himself he’s okay. It’s probably time for another vaccine booster. He’ll call Schaffer first thing Monday morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While she rests, he traces his thumb along the planes of her face and loosens the knots in her hair with his fingers. He’s the luckiest man in the world and can’t even begin to understand how or why, despite being infected by a bunch of singing aliens, he still gets to love Emma. And how on earth she still loves him after everything, he will never know and never take for granted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that hour passes, Emma opens her eyes and stretches, tilting her head up towards her boyfriend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you have a good birthday, Em?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s still </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically </span>
  </em>
  <span>my birthday until 2:36 PM, so it’s not really over…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul plants a flurry of kisses across her cheeks, all while she giggles at the ticklish feel of his lips on her skin. “My apologies then, since you’re still the birthday queen, why don’t I make you a royal breakfast, hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls him on top of her and wraps her legs around his back. “You don’t have to cook if breakfast is right in front of you.” A sly smile creeps on her face, and she kisses Paul, sliding her tongue in his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breaks away for a moment, only to dive back in kissing her neck. “You are insatiable, you know that? And you’re lucky it’s technically your birthday still because I had a whole plan that’s been thwarted by your… antics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma’s hand creeps down below his waist, and she gives him a wink. “I don’t see you complaining though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does not, in fact, complain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They make breakfast together later, just some eggs and toast, nothing too extravagant. Emma spreads a healthy swipe of butter across her bread while Paul wraps his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her in close. She asks for his help to reach her coffee cup that’s one shelf too high for her, and Paul stretches easily to grab it down. He kisses her cheek and starts plating the eggs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together, they sit on the porch eating, drinking coffee, and occasionally talking. Mostly just absorbing the simple but beautiful life they live. Despite yesterday’s rain, Emma learns to appreciate it because of days like today, where the sunlight glitters off the trees and the flowers welcome new life. Without the rain, plants would never grow. They are equally sacred and necessary for the balance of life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all her rainy days, even on her stormiest birthday, Paul is her sunshine, and she couldn’t ask for a better gift than him.</span>
</p>
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